


Reliving The Past

by TheDarkLordMegatron



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 07:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15238380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkLordMegatron/pseuds/TheDarkLordMegatron
Summary: Thranduil is stabbed during the Battle of The Five Armies. The sound of his son’s voice and the clashing of swords sends him back to another time.





	Reliving The Past

In hindsight his failure to watch his back would be judged almost as harshly as his father’s failure to wait for Gil-Galad’s orders. Indeed from the moment he had held his first blade, it had been drilled into him to always guard his rear, to never give an opening to those who would take advantage of it. Which was why it came as a shock to look down and find a blade protruding from his chest. Not seconds after he’d noticed the horrifying sight, the blade was retracted sending him crashing to his knees.

Moments later there were hands grabbing hold of any part of his body, pulling him away from the scene, accompanied by a harsh shout of ‘Adar!’. Perhaps he should have tried harder to fight against those holding him, but struggling for breath and unable to feel his limbs that was the last thing on his mind. In fact, it was almost ironic how being at death’s door reminded him of his own father’s death centuries before.

-

Lurching forward he drove his blade between the eyes of an Orc who dared to get within five feet of his person. Around him men and Elves alike fought with the ferocity of a thousand suns, refusing to give the enemy any advantage. However, despite his own duties to the fairly small contingent of soldiers under his command, as well as the overwhelming number of Orcs attempting to separate his head from his shoulders, the Elven Prince never once stopped looking for his Adar.

“Prince Thranduil!” A voice bellowed over the sounds of clashing blades and the screams of the dying. Ducking under an axe Thranduil drove his blade up into the chest of his attacker, turning to locate the owner of the voice. His eyes immediately met those of Amathion, one of his father’s personal guards. By some miracle he’d managed to cut himself a path through the Orcs, coming to stand at his Prince’s side. “You must go to Buiedir! He and the rest of the Guard have created a small-” He paused to dodge out of the way of an incoming attack. “A small haven. His Majesty is gravely injured and seeks your presence.”

His heart sank. He’d known from the moment they’d left the Greenwood that there was a chance that one or both of them would not be returning, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear. 

“Where?!” 

“They’ve taken shelter behind a small outcrop. I believe Amdir is nearby!” Amathion spun on his heels, grabbing his Prince by the bicep and pushing him away from the oncoming Orcs. “Go! I shall cover you!” Thranduil paused for only a moment, committing his visage to memory - knowing there was a high probability that they would not see one another again in this life, before turning away. 

It took a great deal of effort to force his way through the hordes, until he finally caught sight of Amdir surrounded by his own guards and those of his father. As he got closer, the King of Lórien turned and met his eyes over the heads of the Orcs. Rather than attempting to be heard over the noise Amdir motioned towards an outcrop several feet to his right. Nodding his thanks Thranduil evaded several Orcs endeavouring to impale him on their blades, occasionally returning the favour when a few proved too determined. 

Finally rounding the rocks he was sure his heart skipped a beat. Partially hidden behind Buiedir and several other guards, was his father. It was a sight that would forever haunt his dreams. Oropher was propped up against the rocky formation, his blade still held firmly in his left hand despite the horrifying number of arrows and spears piercing his body. Buiedir moved aside allowing him through prior to closing ranks once more. 

“Adar” Thranduil breathed, dropping to his knees at his father’s side. Oropher raised his head to meet his gaze, reaching out with a bloodied hand to grasp his wrist. 

“I am sorry,,” He murmured his chest rattling as he spoke “I am sorry I am leaving you with such a weight upon your shoulders.”

“Do not apologise adar.” Thranduil said softly, threading his fingers with his fathers.

“Survive ion nin.” Oropher replied, attempting to squeeze his hand. Despite the raging battle around them, nothing mattered more in that moment than providing some form of comfort to his father in his last moments. Mere seconds after his father’s body went lax and his gaze unfocused, Buiedir grabbed hold of his arm and forcibly pulled him to his feet.

“My King, we must go! We cannot hold this position any longer!” Thranduil froze at the use of his father’s title, his title now he supposed. “Thranduil!” Buiedir repeated, this time shaking his arm. He took a deep breath and nodded his assent, gingerly stepping around his father’s body to take his sword. He knew it would be practically impossible to move his father’s body to safety, but he could at least keep his blade by his side.

“We will rally with Amdir and force our way through to Gil-Galad’s forces.” He said “Gather everyone and prepare to move.” Buiedir nodded and moved to rejoin the other guards, barking out orders. Alone once again, Thranduil turned to his father, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye adar, may you be at peace with naneth.”

-

Thranduil awoke to a sharp, agonising pain in the center of his chest and the concerned gaze of his son staring down at him.

“Don’t you dare leave me adar. Not now.” Legolas growled, hands pressing a large bundle of cloth to the wound. Reaching out Thranduil grasped his son’s wrist and attempted to give him a reassuring smile. And in that moment, seeing the fear in his son’s eyes, he decided that he would fight with every fiber of his being to remain at his side. Even if it meant enduring the scathing tongue of Mithrandir as the Maiar, knelt at Legolas’ side along with a few of their own healers.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going through my AO3 and came across my fics from four years ago...18 year old me really had no idea how basic grammar worked. So because I like to make myself suffer I’ve ended up rewriting them haha. 
> 
> The original version of this fic was 690 words of awful writing haha, it’s still up on my AO3 if you want to put yourself through the agony of trying to read it! (Please don’t torture yourselves like this)
> 
> Come and chat about anything & everything with me on Tumblr: TheDarkLordMegatron


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